The quote on top comes from Edgar Alan Poe's poem "The Raven"...
Summer 1988.
"Other friends have flown before – on the morrow he will leave me as my Hopes have flown before. Then the bird said, 'nevermore'."
A wet nose pressed itself against his cheek. Remus groaned and, still with his eyes closed, buried himself under his blanket, curling himself up to a small ball. He could feel his cat walk over him, small paws pressing on him.
"I am not awake yet!" he said, his voice muffled because of his buried position. It was not true, however; he was awake, even though he did not want to admit it. His mind was already working, remembering him of things he had to do. Remus sighed. The list seemed endless: get out of bed, get dressed, feed himself and the cat, oh, get water from the well outside to make tea (he had a wonderful house but no running water), uhm, continue reading in that book about hags he'd bought a few days ago. Read the Daily Prophet of course. Try and convince the cat that catching mice isn't cruel (Silver was a very weak-hearted cat). Remus groaned again and covered himself with his blanket again.
Truth was of course that he had serious problems getting out of bed in the morning. He was more a person for the evening. He could read until it was in the middle of the night, but getting up before nine or ten o'clock was absolute torture.
Silver cried out a long "meow", indicating that he was hungry and wanted food, now. "Yes, yes," Remus muttered. "Coming."
He turned around one last time and finally sat up in bed. He swung his feet out and wriggled with his toes. An old habit, wriggling his toes before getting out of bed. He remembered James and Sirius laughing their heads off when they'd first seen him do it. Remus watched his toes move and was lost in memories.
"Meow."
"Yes, I'm coming. Impatient cat…"
~*~
The first thing Romulus had said when he first saw Remus' house was: "this must be the smallest cottage in Derbyshire, without a doubt." Indeed it was very small, but beautifully situated in an old forest, somewhere in the middle of Derbyshire. The cottage itself was old, build over a hundred years ago. Remus had found it almost by accident, when on a walk through the forest in an attempt to try and escape from the rollercoaster-ride his life had turned into after that one Halloween. He had asked a nearby living farmer who the occupant was, or better, the owner of the small cottage, for it looked quite deserted and badly looked-after. After learning that there wasn't an owner, the matter was easily solved, and Remus moved in only a few weeks after finding the house.
He fixed, re-decorated and furnished the cottage all by himself. It took him more than three months, and when he finally sat down to enjoy the warmth of the first sunny day of April, he thought he could finally relax and think of more important things. The things, the friends he'd lost, for example. But he found out that it didn't really matter anymore. It still hurt, oh yes, but more like a bruise, that slowly, slowly heals. Being occupied with something had proved to be an excellent therapy for him.
Silver followed Remus on his heels when he walked down the stairs while tying his long hair back in a ponytail. His hair hadn't seen a pair of scissors for more than three years now, and, because he was a werewolf, his hair grew faster than normal. His hair was now flowing over his shoulders, down his back, much to the disapproval of his mother. He shrugged. He actually didn't bother cutting his hair; this was much easier than going to the hairdresser every month. And it saved money. How many times had he used that argument now? It must be hundreds.
Entering the kitchen he took his wand from his pocket and waved with it ("swish and flick!" echoed Flitwick in his head). Closets flung open and everything Remus needed for his breakfast came flying out.
The cat meowed long and desperately. The animal had grown older, of course, and wasn't as agile as he used to be. Remus lifted Silver up onto the table, where the cat started eating its breakfast.
Remus studied his pet for a few moments. He roughly guessed that the animal was around twelve years old – he'd been Lily's originally, and she'd gotten him from the animal shelter – and the cat was showing it. He wasn't as fast as he used to be, and he was loosing fur here and there.
A soft bumping sound interrupted his thoughts and made him look up. A tiny, one-eyed owl tried to fly through the window. Igor, Romulus' owl. Romulus, the vampire-freak, said his owl always reminded him of Dracula´s hunchbacked, one-eyed servant you see in comic books, and since that servant is mostly named Igor… According to Remus the resemblance went down to the owl's intelligence, of which the attempts of flying through the window was a good example.
He quickly got to his feet and opened the window. Igor flew in and landed on the kitchen table, hooting contentedly. Remus untied the letter and opened the envelope. It only contained a paper cutting and a small piece of parchment. The paper cutting was about Loch Ness and its Kelpie, Nessie. On the piece of parchment, Romulus had written a few sentences which sounded as if he was working for an advertisement company: "bored of your dull normal life? Go to Scotland! Visit Loch Ness and maybe you'll see its world-famous Kelpie! Enjoy the nature! Drink real Scottish whisky! Visit you aunt!"
Yeah right, Romulus, thought Remus. Nice idea but no thank you. He crumpled both the paper cutting and the parchment and threw them in the bin.
~*~
A few days later Remus woke up with a shock. Blinking in the sunlight that shone in his face he reached out for the clock on his bedside table. Half past eleven. He frowned. Something was wrong, but he just couldn't figure out what it was. An increasing feeling of unease totally woke him up. He sat up on bed, frowning. What was it? Without wriggling his toes he got out and walked downstairs, still in his pyjamas. He checked every door but they were all still locked. There wasn't a broken window either. He moved further, into the kitchen, where something with silver-grey fur was curled up on a chair. That was it.
Remus suddenly knew what he had missed: the cat waking him up. Still, something was bothering him.
"Hey, goodmorning," he said loudly. No reaction. Now getting a bit irritated, he walked over to the animal. "C´mon, wake up."
This is the point when life stops being funny, he thought when realisation set in.
Silver was dead.
Remus closed his eyes and opened them again. The cat was still dead. He laughed a short, almost barking laugh. "Sure, why not," he said aloud. "Why no my pet too? Imagine someone was writing the story of my life, he or she would probably be groaning in despair now because it's getting so predictable…"
Still crouched besides the chair, he suddenly noticed the bin. ""Bored of your dull normal life?'" he muttered. "'Visit Scotland!'"
He jumped on his feet and threw the bin upside-down, searching the trash for a paper cutting.